


Anonymous, Not Meaningless.

by silver_sun



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Anonymous Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_sun/pseuds/silver_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nice, safe, reliable Andy. He knows that's how they all see him back at the station. He wonders what they would think of him if they knew he was out looking for a one night stand. A male one night stand. Shocked is his guess.</p><p>Written for Kink-las, a kink last author standing contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anonymous, Not Meaningless.

**Story Title:** Anonymous, Not Meaningless.  
 **Kink Prompt: **Anonymous sex.****  
 **Character/Relationships:** Andy Davidson/Owen Harper  
 **Warnings:** None.  
 **Summary:** Nice, safe, reliable Andy. He knows that's how they all see him back at the station. He wonders what they would think of him if they knew he was out looking for a one night stand. A male one night stand. Shocked is his guess.  
 **A/N:** Still in Kink-las. Can't believe I've got this far. 

 

Sat at the bar in a small pub, located just a couple of streets away from Roath park, Andy Davidson watches the crowd.

The mostly male clientèle drink, flirt and talk with each other. Andy's not there for conversation though. He's there for sex.

Nice, safe, reliable Andy. He knows that's how they all see him back at the station. He wonders what they would think of him if they knew he was out looking for a one night stand. A male one night stand. Shocked is his guess.

Sure, he's wanted Gwen since the day she first walked into station. After all she is exactly the sort of woman he's supposed to want. A nice girl, all big smiles and a bigger heart, somebody who his mam would be proud to see him with.

Only it's not what he wants, not always, not if he's honest with himself; and he supposes he should be, after all he's not being honest with anyone else. Sometimes what he wants is the grip of strong hands on his hips, the scrape of a stubbled cheek against his own, and the feel of a cock inside him. He wants to be fucked, good and hard, so that he’ll be able to feel it in the morning.

Sometimes he thinks it would be easier if the people around him knew that he was attracted to both men and women. But then all the things he's seen and heard on the beat, and in dealing with members of the public, the casual and not so casual homophobia he's been witness to mean that he's stayed silent. 

Andy is still considering this when he notices a new face in the pub. The leather jacket, cocky smile and swaggering walk present quite a picture. He’s got the look that Andy associates with being a good, dirty fuck. And tonight that’s exactly what he’s looking for.

He might be a little shorter than what Andy usually goes for, but he’s sure that he’s going to get damn good night all the same.

Walking over to him, Andy can feel the twist of nerves that always seems to accompany any of his attempts at propositioning anybody.

“I've not see you here before. I'd like to get to know you,” Andy says suggestively, hoping he doesn't sound too ridiculous.

“You don't hang about, do you?” the man says with a grin, his London accent standing out amongst the mostly Welsh ones in the pub.

“Who wants to waste time when there's better things to be doing?” Andy says, feeling more confident now that his initial proposition has been laughed at. “How did you here about this place, you're not from round here, are you?”  
The man looks away as he replies,“The boss said that this is the place to get some action, guess he thought I could do with it.”

“Unusual boss.”

“You don't know the half of it.” He laughs, although there is a bitter edge to it. “So what you called? I bet it's Jones or Evans or something like that.”

“No names,” Andy says quickly. He made a point of never revealing his name to any of his one night stands, the fear that somehow it might get back to his family or work colleagues, means it's something he feels he can't risk. “I'm not looking for anything more than sex tonight.”

The man gives him an odd look, then shrugs. “Fine by me, I wasn't after anything more than a quick shag anyway. So where do you want to go?”

“The park?”

“I'm not getting my cock out anywhere there's stinging nettles,” he says indignantly. “Anyway, it's bloody freezing out there. My place, your place or a hotel, otherwise tonight's off.”

“Hotel,” Andy says, knowing that it's a safer option that either going back to a stranger's house or inviting somebody he's only just met into his own flat. “I'll go halves if you want.”

“Nah, just got a new job here, pays more than I know what to do with. Might as well fuck in comfort.” He gets up off the barstool, then heads for the door. “You coming then?”

“I hope so,” Andy says following him out of the pub.

 

* * *

 

Morning sunlight streams through the hotel window, and Andy rolls over to find the bed empty.

There's a scrap of paper with the initials O.H. and a mobile number scribbled on it left on the pillow.

Andy looks at it for a moment, hating the empty space in the bed. The need for something more than this, more than a lonely hotel room and a hidden life, is an almost physical ache. The sense of loss at knowing that, unless he admits to the world at large about this is part of his life, this is probably all there's ever going to be, seems to get worse every time he does this.

For now though this is all there is.

He looks at the note again, then picks it up, a small, determined smile on his face, as he decides that perhaps it doesn't have to be.


End file.
